


Renovations

by DesireeArmfeldt



Category: Slings & Arrows, Wilby Wonderful (2004)
Genre: Community: ds_snippets | dsc6dsnippets, Crossover, Gen, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:36:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellen Fanshaw hires Duck McDonald</p>
            </blockquote>





	Renovations

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the C6D Cross-Time Saloon festival at [ds-snippets.](http://ds-snippets.livejournal.com)

“That one’s too harsh. . .maybe something a little darker?—No, that just looks dirty. . .”

Duck would rather not have met his client in a bar, but it’s bad business to argue, especially when you’re new in town.  So he’s watching Ms Fanshaw belt down rum and Coke as she talks a mile a minute, bright and bossy and brittle, like Carol French, only apparently flakier. 

“Well,” he offers, “Maybe you’d prefer a matte finish?  I can—”

“Look.”  Without warning, her veneer cracks.  “What I have is a lime-green kitchen and a lot of bad memories, and I just want to get rid of it all.  So could you just come over this weekend—and paint my walls some color that isn’t hideous?  Please?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver. Oh God, I have to run, I have a show tonight.”  As she stands, she brushes against him, then deliberately leans in closer.  “But, if you like, you could drop by the house around midnight to take a look. . .”

“I only work in daylight.”

Her expression wavers between hurt and outrage.  Duck braces for a tirade, but instead, her eyes go narrow.

“Oh, wait—are you gay?”

The question surprises him so much that he actually says, “Yes.”

No one has ever asked him that before.  All his life, people didn’t know or maybe-guessed, but they never _asked_.  The few who did know, didn’t have to ask.  This is the first time he’s told someone outright.

And—astonishing?  predictable?—this woman gives him a relieved smile.

“Oh, good, that’s all right then.  Sorry if I—it’s been a long—anyway, this weekend, you’ll come paint?”

She barely waits for his distracted nod before she dashes out, leaving him sitting there, grinning into his tonic water.


End file.
